


(Baby, You're My) Getaway Driver

by misura



Category: Grayson (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-23 14:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Dick and Tiger in a car, almost kissing. (For a given definition of 'almost'.)





	(Baby, You're My) Getaway Driver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alestar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alestar/gifts).



There were times when Dick felt like everyone in the world had a cool car with mysterious but prominently present red buttons except him. Well, and Tiger, but these days, they were more or less a package deal, so that went without saying.

"Don't push the red button."

"Is it another parachute, do you think?" With the way Tiger was driving, Dick figured they might need it.

Tiger glanced at the rearview mirror. "If you wanted to know, you should have asked."

"I just did."

Tiger very emphatically didn't give him a look. Dick felt their relationship had made a lot of progress these past weeks, to the point where he had even begun to toy with the idea of reintroducing the idea of Tiger singing along to their very own theme song. (The refrain only, of course. And maybe a few lines here and there about what a charming, handsome, attractive and all around fantastic fellow Dick was.)

"Oh," Dick said. "You meant the guy we stole it from. Why didn't _you_ ask?"

"It's a car. I saw no need for further information."

Dick considered. "That seems a bit short-sighted."

"To you, maybe." Tiger took a turn.

Dick decided it was a good thing he'd passed on the canapes. And lunch. In hindsight, he should have skipped breakfast as well, but such was the life of a spy. You never knew in the morning what you'd end up doing in the afternoon.

Tiger ran a red light. Several people used their claxons to express an opinion.

"You can probably slow down now. I don't think we're being followed."

"You wouldn't. That's why you're number 37."

"Didn't we agree not to talk about that anymore? In fact, I distinctly remember us agreeing not to talk about that anymore."

"You agreed," Tiger said.

"You said pretty please," Dick said. "Or words to that effect," he added quickly. "But fine. You hurt my feelings. Congratulations. Does that make you feel all smug and superior?"

Tiger took another turn. Dick's stomach indicated a strong desire to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"I thought Spyral offered driving classes."

"Yes," Tiger said. "If you'd attended any of them, I might have let you drive."

"Be honest."

"You worry too much about the wrong things, and not enough about the right things."

"I worry that we're going to die in a fiery car crash," Dick said. "That red button may be our only hope of survival."

"Don't push the red button."

"That's what you kept saying last time, and we both remember how that turned out."

"Don't make me repeat myself again."

"Honestly, you're very intimidating. Did you take a class?"

The rearview mirror vanished. Loudly.

"All right," Dick said. "The way I look at it is that you need two hands to drive, so intimidating or not, you can't actually stop me."

 

_two hours later, give or take_

"Dick Grayson. You are an idiot."

"I already apologized. Though really, it's your own fault for not taking a moment to - "

Tiger had definitely also attended the advanced seduction classes. Not that Dick thought he'd needed all that much seducing as such, but still. He preferred believing Tiger's ahem skills were the result of careful and extensive training rather than natural talent. The alternative was just depressing.

"You realize that this is sending some mixed signals, don't you?"

"We should be safe here for the next few hours at least. It will take them time to realize that we were no longer in the car when you blew it up."

"It was an accident! I mean, who uses a big red button to initiate a self-destruct sequence?"

"Would you like a list?"

"If I say 'no', what am I going to get instead?"

Dick assumed there wasn't actually a class where they taught you how to give people smoldering looks. If there had been, Tiger could have taught it.

Of course, Dick liked to think that he was special, that Tiger didn't simply go around the world smoldering at people after they'd (accidentally!) almost blown him up.

He swallowed. "Can I get that in writing?"

"You should feel lucky I haven't killed you," Tiger said.

"Yet," Dick said, because fair was fair. Admittedly, right here and now, getting killed by Tiger felt like a kind of ... attractive way to go. He'd had worse offers, to be sure.

"You owe me a lot more than an apology, I think."

"A new car?" Dick suggested. "A newly stolen car?" he corrected himself. "Which I will solemnly promise not to cause to explode by accident or on purpose?"

Tiger's smolder was really something, Dick decided. It had begun to edge towards 'intimidating', which would kill the mood somewhat, inasfar as there was one.

(All right, so there was. They were in a reasonably comfortable hotel room, top-floor, no neighbors, both of them a bit crispy and fresh escaped from a brush with death. Things like that got your blood pumping, made you appreciate some of the finer things in life, such as having someone there with you who was good at smoldering and kissing even if he also pretended to be annoyed by you a lot.)

"Take off your clothes," Tiger said.

"How about: last one to get naked owes the other one a favor of a sexual nature?"

"You already owe me two dozen of those."

"I only need one," Dick said. "One win, and then - "

"And then what?"

"I have no idea," Dick admitted. "You'll like it, though. You might even love it."

"Tempting. Too bad you've already lost. Perhaps you should spend less time talking."

"Perhaps I'm just luring you into a false sense of security."

Tiger kissed him. By way of a witty come-back, Dick couldn't help but feel it fell somewhat short. On the other hand, in some situations, actions spoke louder than words, and if they really did have only a few hours, it might be just as well to use them as efficiently as possible.


End file.
